Between Now and Then
by Nameless Boast
Summary: Sometimes change comes too slowly to resist. Try though he might, Vegeta cannot escape the two pairs of blue eyes that constantly lurk in his thoughts.


The young Prince is fourteen when he realizes that, were his planet still in existence, he would be among the small minority of his people that would not bed any of his own sex. Such relationships were common on Vegetasei, but as his young body develops, his finds that—despite his best efforts—he feels no attraction to other males.

Given his circumstances, this is remarkably inconvenient.

Vegeta ignores the pathetically lustful glances Radditz tosses his way. He does not bother to mask his contempt.

* * *

Vegeta struggles to make it back to his ship with some semblance of dignity. His pride, his whole _identity_, lies shattered among the mountains and valleys of this insignificant blue planet.

He is defeated.

As he crawls into his space pod, the Prince vows that he will soon return to the planet, and shall reclaim his lost honor. The humiliation he has suffered will be paid back tenfold.

* * *

Never before has Vegeta felt like such a failure. Not even his defeat at Frieza's hands left him feeling so frustrated, so lost.

Somehow, Kakarrot has been able to consistently elude the Saiyan Prince, draining the space pod's fuel reserves until Vegeta can no longer afford to continue his exploration of the galaxy. Left without any other options, Vegeta has opted to return to Earth to wait out his rival's reappearance.

He is more than a little bewildered when the shrill blue-haired woman orders him to follow her into her home, offering him access to a shower and a fresh set of clothing. He is just flummoxed enough to obey.

* * *

The Namek solemnly relays the teenager's report to the gathered fighters, bringing tidings of a threat that has yet to come into existence. It is at first difficult to accept that the mysterious teenaged visitor is not only a Super Saiyan, but has in fact come from the future. Still Vegeta tries to take Piccolo's words seriously.

Dying and coming back to life has taught Vegeta to suspend his sense of disbelief.

Though the other so-called warriors react with dread, Vegeta is heartened by the presence of a new challenge. Finally, the Prince will have another opportunity to demonstrate his prowess in battle, proving once and for all that no one—not even Kakarrot—is his equal.

Nothing else matters.

* * *

His muscles burn with the strain of constant training, along with something else. He steps out of the gravity chamber to find her waiting for him.

The offer is straightforward enough, and Vegeta accepts without hesitation. The tension between the Prince and this endlessly irritating woman has been palpable for weeks. It was only a matter of time before one of them acted on the desire.

Vegeta is not remotely surprised when he sees how these humans resemble Saiyans anatomically. There are a select few species in space that are able to mate with members of his race, but such a phenomenon is far from unheard of. Besides, Kakarrot's brat of a halfling is living proof of the two species' biological compatibility.

The resemblance is far from perfect, but for current purposes, the differences between her and the women of his own dead race are trivial. So, despite her blue hair and bluer eyes, she is more than capable of slaking his lust.

* * *

When Vegeta returns from his training in space, he is immediately accosted by the woman. She hurls questions at him, demanding to know where he has been and otherwise making a bother of herself. Luckily for her, the Prince is still in an extraordinarily good mood. After all, he has finally attained his birthright, having transformed into that most legendary warrior of his race. Though he does not answer her queries, neither does he lose his temper with her.

She informs him that she has given birth to a child. He asks why he would be interested in such a trifle. She says that the boy is his offspring.

He repeats the question.

* * *

Vegeta tosses and turns, trying to find a sufficiently comfortable position in which to sleep. He has suffered from insomnia for years, but as the date the androids are set to arrive approaches, it becomes worse. He is not nervous; he is merely anxious to face these enemies, testing his newfound abilities on a worthy target.

He finally gives on sleep, sliding out of his bed and making his way down the corridor to retrieve a glass of water. He strides past an open door before doubling back. A quick glance into the room confirms the presence of a crib as well as a veritable arsenal of toys and baby clothes.

Vegeta's curiosity is piqued. He has not seen the baby since learning of its existence, and the Prince cannot resist sliding into the room in which the infant sleeps. The sight that greets him leaves him quite shocked.

The brat is not a Saiyan. That much is clear.

A thick mass of purple hair already adorns the baby's head. He is dressed in a blue onesie, dotted with yellow smilie faces. His appearance is completely unbefitting a Saiyan Prince.

Perhaps that is for the best. After all, Vegeta can now say with certainty that the child is none of his concern. He is the woman's son, and nothing more.

Vegeta pretends not to notice the already impressive _ki_ the boy radiates form his crib. He also pretends not to notice that the baby's eyes, even closed, are precisely the same shape as the Prince's own.

* * *

The battle is now well underway. The teenaged prophet has returned, looking not a bit older than the day he first arrived three years ago. Confusion settles in as he hears the Namek refer to the teenager as "Trunks."

It does not take long for the Prince to put the pieces together. A Super Saiyan from the future, with dark blue eyes and that distinctive violet hair that so resembles the little tufts atop the baby's head. The admittedly impressive young warrior is the product of Vegeta's blood.

As Vegeta flies off in pursuit of the androids, he smirks. A mere teenager has already achieved a level no one but he himself and Kakarrot have obtained in a thousand years.

It's an odd dissonance. He has no son, and yet it is clear that his blood runs strong through the boy's veins.

* * *

He has known rage before. Despite what others may think, Vegeta is in fact aware that his temper has been as much a hindrance as an asset in battle. He has always been a tactical genius, and he knows that his otherwise impeccable judgment has on more than one occasion been clouded by anger.

He has known rage before. Yet he has never completely lost control. Even his initial transformation to a Super Saiyan came as the culmination of years of training, rather than entirely of its own accord.

He has known rage before, but not like this. When Trunks coughs blood and takes a final pained, gasping breath, there is a snap. His fury is more than blinding; it is all-consuming.

Suddenly, Vegeta is terrified. Not because he is more than likely facing his own doom, but because he no longer knows himself.

* * *

He understands that his unlikely allies are the sentimental sort. He assumes that one of the other warriors has informed Trunks of the Prince's rather uncharacteristic behavior following the boy's death.

So he is surprised when the revived Trunks makes no mention of the incident. There are no attempts to display affection, no words, not even a simple goodbye. He simply returns Vegeta's informal salute with a small smile, and turns away.

For once, Vegeta is impressed.

* * *

Though his expression remains stony, Vegeta nods with approval at the boy's performance. The five-year-old grins, unaccustomed to even that much acknowledgement. He does a few flips midair—an impressive feat, considering he took flight for the first time mere minutes before.

The Prince raises an eyebrow as the brat jets, giggling, toward the small pond, diving into the shallow water for a few seconds before popping back out. It is a hot day, and the child is clearly taking advantage of his new ability in an attempt to cool off.

The woman has insisted, repeatedly, that the boy is an absolute prodigy. This time, Vegeta must agree.

* * *

Though Vegeta has spent years training the boy, even he is surprised by the skill the child is demonstrating. Trunks fights with both extreme ferocity and total calmness. He relies not only on sheer power, but brilliant strategy. Though Kakarrot's brat nearly matches him in strength, Vegeta's son is by far the smarter fighter.

What's more impressive is that Trunks does not seem to be unnerved by fighting in so public a forum. Though tens of thousands have filled the stadium to watch the World Martial Arts Tournament, the boy pays them no mind.

It is obvious to Vegeta how the fight will end.

Trunks turns toward the audience for a moment, making eye contact with his father. Vegeta nods almost imperceptibly; Trunks should need no more encouragement than that.

The boy has done well.

* * *

He displays a sick grin, letting his lips twist in what he knows is a mockery of happiness. The ability to act without concern for the lives of others—least of all the small family he has accidentally formed in his decade on Earth—is invigorating.

Vegeta has allowed that diminutive wizard to awaken the evil that lay dormant in his heart. The screams of the crowd only add to the thrill.

He drinks in Kakarrot's shock and dismay, challenging the other Saiyan to a final battle. This, he knows, is his destiny. Vegeta has finally conquered the mediocrity that has dominated his life over the past several years. He knows he shall reclaim his rightful place as the heir to the Saiyan throne.

Yet two faces still drift in the background of his mind. Try though he might, he cannot fully escape the two pairs of blue eyes that constantly lurk in his thoughts.

* * *

Even through the aura of sheer energy that surrounds him, he can make out the silhouette of his son, tucked indelicately under the Namek's arm. With more difficulty than he would care to admit to, Vegeta forces himself to turn away from the retreating figure. He has a job to take care of.

He cannot help hurling a few insults at the bloated pink monster before him. If he is going to face his demise, he might as well have a bit of fun beforehand.

Though it is a sacrificial act, it is not a selfless one. True, Piccolo has disabused him of any illusions about his fate. Vegeta understands quite fully that the afterlife will not be an especially pleasant one for him.

Ultimately, it is a matter of weighing costs and benefits. The Prince comes to the horrifying conclusion that no hell could compare with losing his son.

* * *

Kakarrot has no right to mourn.

The reality of their situation begins to settle on Vegeta as he looks around, seeing who has managed to escape the Earth's explosion and land on the sacred planet of the kais.

Seeing who is missing.

Kakarrot is downcast as Vegeta grabs him by the collar, yelling at him in shock and anger. The idiot has allowed not only his own sons, but _Vegeta's_ son, to die along with the rest of the planet. With the Dragonballs gone along with the Earth, there is no way to revive them.

Kakarrot has the good sense to keep his gaze averted. Vegeta drops him in disgust, turning away from his companions. A cold, cruel voice in his mind reminds him that everything they have worked for has disappeared in an instant.

For once, Vegeta is grateful for his temper. He is self-aware enough to realize that anger is all that keeps him from giving into despair.

* * *

As he lands on the guardian's lookout, the sun shining brightly above him, the Prince cannot help but be struck by this most improbable of endings. A friendship has been forged from the most unwilling of alliances. A threat stronger than all of them has been conquered. Vegeta has—quite literally—been to hell and back, and now he stands before the two people he never expected to see again.

Trunks tugs at his arm. Vegeta acknowledges his words, along with Bulma's wink and smile. Though he does not respond in kind, he knows it is not necessary.

* * *

Trunks holds the small bundle with gentleness unusual from a thirteen-year-old boy. He cradles the baby, taking in the strands of light blue upon her scalp and the tiny, relaxed face.

This lasts for a few minutes before their father takes the newborn child from Trunks, supporting her head with the same delicacy that the boy had displayed. Bulma, already beginning to recover from her labor-induced exhaustion, alternates between greeting her friends and hurling orders at the harried nurses. The child coos in her father's arms, and, for the first time, her delicate eyelids just barely crack open.

She has her mother's eyes.

Vegeta ignores the friendly, teasing remarks Kakarrot sends his way. He does not bother to mask the small smile that has appeared on his face.


End file.
